The Wise Words of Harry's Potter
by Senorita Sassybuns
Summary: Harry is filled with insightful guidance that he shares with his friends and family. A series of chapters where Harry is married to Ginny and shares his advice with anyone who asks.
1. Ron

Ch.1

**AN: a new day, a new story! I don't own anything HP. Enjoy!**

Harry sat at his desk in the auror office. He was writing a report on the mission he went on the other week. Because writing reports are Harry's least favorite thing about being an auror. His second least favorite thing was when dark wizards didn't feel like being evil. How was he supposed to catch them if they weren't breaking the law? It's like they were trying to put him out of a job.

Just as Harry was polishing off his report, his best friend and brother in law, Ron, trudged into his office, collapsing in the chair across from the desk.

"Did you get your report done?" Harry inquired, although figuring he already knew the answer.

"No, I was assigned to guard Kingsley on his trip to Canada. So, I had to report to his office. I just got out," Ron explained.

"Why does Kingsley need protection?" Harry wondered out loud. "I mean, he did used to be an auror. You'd think he could protect himself."

"Yeah, but that's not what's on my mind," Ron admitted. Harry felt such a problem telling session deserved something to drink. He pulled open his bottom desk drawer where he held a secret stash of butterbeer and popped a couple of bottles open. He handed one of the bottles to Ron, who immediately took a swig.

"What's up?" Harry asked.

"You know Claire?"

"Kingsley's secretary?"

"Yeah, she won't leave me alone," Ron said.

"What do you mean? Does she pester you with ministry issues, or something?" Harry asked.

"No, she throws herself at me and keeps wanting to...you know," Ron said awkwardly.

Harry nodded, knowing exactly what Ron meant, "you know Ron, I have the exact same problem."

"You do?"

"Yeah. You see, Ginny and I have this neighbor and she always asks me if I have clean boxers on. It's as if she thinks Ginny can't wash my boxers clean. When in all reality, Ginny knows just how to take the stink of baby vomit out of them and make my undies smell like a rose garden," Harry look contemplatively up at the ceiling. He took a deep breath and swore he could still smell the rosey garden in his pants.

"What?" Ron looked at his friend incredulously. "I won't even ask how you got baby vomit on your knickers."

"It was at night. James managed to vomit over my shoulder, but it stuck to the back of my boxers. So, Claire wants to wash your undies, right?"

"No!" Ron paused, "who does that?"

"My neighbor," Harry said. He had a feeling he shouldn't have said anything.

"Your neighbor wants to wash your undies?"

"Yeah, but that's besides the point. What does Claire want from you?" Harry tooka swig from his butterbeer.

"What's on the other side of my boxers!" Ron cried out. "I told her I was with Hermione, but she won't listen. What do you think I should do?"

"Tell her to go away," Harry shrugged.

"You don't think I've tried that?"

"Well, try to scare her off," Harry suggested. "For instance, whenever some crazy fan girl tries to come onto me, I just tell her that my wife, on our honeymoon, encountered a tiger trying to eat me. I wasn't hurt because upon pouncing me, she jumped in front of the animal ripped the heart out of the tiger's chest. With her bare hands. Needless to say, they back off for fear of facing the wrath of Ginny Weasley."

"There are no tigers in Ireland," Ron stated.

"I know that and you know that, but fan girls don't know that."

"Brilliant! Wait, I'm pretty sure Claire knows that Hermione won't ever turn to violence," Ron added.

"She did attack Lavender with canaries."

"True, but that was five years ago. She's much mellower now."

"You can make her not interested anymore?"

"How?"

"Say you don't have anything," Harry noticed that he was experiencing one of his rare moments: when he has no idea the words coming out of his mouth.

"Oh really?" Ron inquired, "how do I justify that?"

"It was bit off, clean off."

Ron shook his head and waved his butterbeer bottle under his nose, checking for traces of firewhisky. He found none. "What are you saying?"

"You can say that while you were in Egypt all those years ago, your family went on a boat ride down the Nile. You were sitting by the edge when out of nowhere a baby crocodile leaps out of the water and tries to eat you. You jumped out of the way but the croc gets away with a piece of you," Harry explained.

Ron gave Harry a horrified look. He took a deep swig of butterbeer and decided to let what tiny amount of alcohol that was in his system, somehow cloud his judgement. He didn't know how Harry thought of these things, but he was sure he didn't want to know. He was married to his sister, after all.

"Does it work?"

"Sure. Why wouldn't it?" Harry reasoned.

"I'll try it!" Ron polished off his butterbeer and left Harry's office. "Thanks for the advice, mate!"

"Anytime," Harry leaned back in his chair. It's good to be Harry Potter.

**AN: tell me what you think!**


	2. Teddy

Ch 2

Teddy trudged into the kitchen glumly. It was one in the morning and he was staying at his godfather's for the winter holiday. He was invited to his girlfriend's place, but he hadn't been to the Potter's in a year or so and he felt a visit was well overdue. He only wished he could enjoy it.

Unfortunately, Teddy's problems had followed him home and he couldn't shake them long enough to enjoy decorating a simple butter cookie. He was beginning to wonder if he was brining the whole family down because of his bothered mind.

The troubled teen opened the freezer and pulled out the ice cream. It was chocolate fudge brownie with caramel swirls. He called it his 'depressed girl' treat. He wasn't sure why he had one, or how he got to eating such a rich ice cream. All he knew was that it helped him brood...and think, but mostly brood.

Teddy was enjoying his third heaping spoonful of ice cream when the kitchen light came on. He froze when he saw his godfather staring at him. It was like he was being caught cheating or snogging.

"Ummm," he stammered, hiding the tub of ice cream behind his back.

Harry pretended not to notice and pulled out some supplies for what looked to be nachos. He piled all of the chips on a plate, stacking them with peppers, four kinds of shredded cheese, tomatoes, and bits of meat that Teddy couldn't distinguish. He then put the entire confection into the oven.

Teddy decided to pick at his ice cream, but his sweet tooth was overpowered with the smell of cooking nachos.

"You want some?" Harry asked, pulling the now gooey, steaming, plate out of the oven. Teddy felt his mouth water and nodded silently. Harry pushed the plate between the two of them, pulled up a stool and began to pick at the nachos. Teddy followed suit.

"So, why exactly did you make nachos at one o'clock in the morning?" Teddy finally asked, scooping a chip into his mouth.

"I had a case of the munchies. I had a dream I was in a seven cheese fountain next to a pile of chips," Harry explained. "So, when I woke up, I decided to make nachos. It's better than ice cream, that's for sure."

Teddy chuckled and glanced over at the forgotten pint of ice cream. He saw droplets of water streaming down the side of the carton and felt a pang of sadness. His ice cream felt alone, abandoned, and now was crying.

"Don't worry my fudgey delight, I still love you," Teddy told the ice cream. He scooped a spoonful into his mouth before he put the tub back into the freezer, where it can be with its ice cream friends.

"You want to talk about it? You've been oozing with brooding gloom since you came back from school. Ginny's beginning to think you don't want to be here," Harry eyed his godson from the tops of his glasses.

"There's this guy," Teddy started.

Harry sighed, "you know, Ted, asking a guy out is like asking a girl out. You swallow your fear and make your move."

"What? No, Harry, I'm not gay."

"I understand completely and support you no matter what. Although Victoire might be distraught, you can't pretend to love someone you don't even like. I should know, I've been there, " Harry continued, oblivious to what Teddy was saying.

"Harry, I'm not gay!" Teddy snapped. "This guy won't leave me alone!"

Harry looked at Teddy oddly, "so, this guy isn't your type? But you don't want to hurt his feelings? Well, let me tell you, sometimes you have to treat people like a band aid. You need to just rip it off in one go."

"Bloody hell Harry! I'm not gay!" Teddy shouted.

"What's with all the shouting?" Ginny asked, walking into the kitchen.

"Gin, what are you doing up this early?" Harry inquired.

"I've been up for awhile," Ginny replied, filling a teapot to boil for a cup of tea.

"You can't sleep?" Teddy asked.

"No, I've been up for hours listening to this one," Ginny jabbed her thumb in Harry's direction, "mumble 'moo' in his sleep. Then I heard him get up, before you know it, I hear shouting. So, here I am. Now, what's with all the shouting about?"

"Teddy here–," Harry started.

"A kid at school won't leave me alone," Teddy interrupted.

"What?" Harry looked at him incredulously, "you didn't mention that before."

"Yes I did. You just insisted on me being gay."

"Tell him to leave you alone or else I'll bat bogey hex him," Ginny said. She mixed a tablespoon of honey in with her tea. She took a deep sip.

"No, don't tell him that, he'll laugh at you," Harry said, waiving Ginny's advice. "You have to play him at his own game."

"How do I do that?" Teddy wanted his tub of ice cream again. "He keeps saying 'nobody loves an orphan' whenever I'm around. Then he just looks at me," Teddy said glumly.

"Have you talked to a teacher? I know Neville will do something if you just talk to him," Ginny suggested.

"Ginny, Ted needs to stand on his own two feet with this one," Harry said. Ginny shot him a glare. She walked around the nook and kissed the top of Teddy's head. She then walked back up the stairs.

"So, what do I do Harry? I mean, I want him to leave me alone, but I can't think of how. I've tried everything possible," Teddy said.

"Is he a muggle born?"

"Yeah, why?"

Harry smirked, "what you are going to do is send him a Christmas present." Harry spun off his stool and walked into the library. Teddy leaned back to see what his godfather was fetching. What does he mean give him a Christmas present? Sure, he's heard of killing them with kindness, but he's tried that already.

"Here you are," Harry said, plopping a DVD in front of Teddy. Teddy picked up the muggle item and read the title.

"Orphan? What's this about?" Teddy was beginning to question Harry's sanity.

"It's about a family that adopts this orphan child and she tries to kill everyone," Harry summarized. "You are going to send this to your 'friend' for Christmas. To it, you will attach a note that says 'once you kill a cow, you gotta make a burger'."

"What's that going to do?" Teddy looked at the movie's cover. It looked creepy.

"Well, he'll watch it and I guarantee he will never bother you again," Harry pulled his wand out and put the nacho dish in the sink and followed Ginny upstairs.

"Feel free to dig into the ice cream again," Harry said from halfway up the stairs.

Teddy looked at the movie again and a smile crept across his face, "naw, I'm coming up too."

**AN: this chapter was inspired by 'Telephone' and "Heart of Darkness" (can you pick out my references?) Make sure you leave a review!**


	3. Albus

Ch. 3

**AN: thanks to my two reviewers and subscribers for following my story! This chapter is for VivaJuanita!**

Harry's day off found him in his library, reading about serial killers. Serial killer books were a guilty pleasure for him and since they were for the most part, nonfiction, he kept his stash of serial killer books on one of the highest shelves. The only chance one of his kids could get one of them is if they were to use magic. Since they were all underage, he didn't have to worry about any of them using magic without him finding out.

While reading about Russia's 'chessboard killer,' Albus timidly walked into the library. He wanted to ask his dad something before going to his mother, but he wasn't in any rush and figured he could wait until Harry had finished the page, or chapter, or who was he kidding? He'll just wait for his father to be done with the entire book.

Albus found a random book by Jane Austen (the wise voice of all thing romance) and flipped open to a random page. He will just brush up on his Austen while he waits for his dad to finish. He needed date ideas anyways.

"What do need, Al?" Harry said, not looking up from his read. Albus jumped out of his seat, surprised that his father even knew he was in the room. What he didn't know was that Harry had trained his ears to distinguish all his children's footsteps.

"Just reading Jane Austen," Albus replied.

"You need date ideas?" Harry smirked. He could remember when he would turn to The Oprah for date ideas. They usually ended in disaster, but Harry figured it wasn't because of Oprah. The woman was practically a saint and saints do no wrong. They stare at people who have done wrong and Harry has certainly had his fair share of stare downs by Oprah, even if it was just through the TV.

"Yeah, date ideas," Albus continued. "I was thinking a picnic with hill tumbling."

"Naw, you should get a pile of hay and roll in it."

"Roll? In hay?"

"Yeah, you ever had a hay rolling party?" Harry actually looked up from his book.

"No, dad, sorry," Albus cleared his throat to fill the silence that followed.

"Shame. Rolling in the hay parties are fun. I had one with your mother once. Nine months later, Lily was born. I wanted to name her Haylie. That way I could always remember that day in the hay." Harry got a shining twinkle in his eye, "I made a rhyme!"

"Thanks, dad," Albus fought to hold down the cookies he just ate. They were fresh cookies. Chocolate chip. "I've always wanted to hear the story on how my little sister was conceived.

"You want to hear James?"

"Merlin, no!"

"That's what Ron says whenever I bring up the subject," Harry said contemplatively. He then noticed he hadn't finished the chessboard killer yet and returned to reading.

"I was going to hang out with my friends later," Albus started.

"Don't forget to tell your mother, because I will."

"No, was going to, but I'm not so sure I want to anymore."

"Jane Austen has that kind of power over men. She brings out your inner girl."

"No, they want me to go try something with them, but I don't know if I should," Albus finally admitted.

A firework went off in Harry's head. _Oh boy! Peer pressure! Don't fail me now, !_ "What do they want you to try?"

"I don't know, this...thing, but I think It comes with some serious side effects. Jake said he had one and was sick for three days, but now he has one three times a week. And Dan said that he has one everyday!"

Harry nodded grimly. _My son will not give into drugs and follow a life of booze and hot pants! _"Albus, remember that conversation we had? The one where your mother and I tag teamed talking to you. You know, the one about sex and cheating?"

"Yes," Albus was still trying to forget that talk.

"And what happens to cheaters?"

"Cheaters die," Albus recited.

"Exactly. And if you were to do what your friends are doing, the fate that is reserved for cheaters will be upon you!" Harry hoped his crazy way of putting things really got through to Albus.

"So you mean to say, that if I go hang out with my friends, I'll die?"

"Precisely. It may not be a quick death, but death all the same. Do you now know what you have to do?" Harry asked. He felt the conversation concluding and picked his book up again.

"I will find new friends," Albus said solemnly. He had to admit he was disappointed. Whatever his friends were eating sounded kinda good.

"Atta boy," Harry burrowed back between the pages of his serial killer book. Albus returned Jane Austen back to her spot on the shelf and decided he would not ask for his mother's opinion. She usually sided with Harry anyways.

"What was it exactly that they wanted you to try?" Harry asked, eyes fixated on the pages.

"Something called a Big Mac," Albus shrugged.

Harry snorted, "you'll die of heart attack. You were smart to come to me. While your friends are clogging their arteries and stretching their waistlines to the circumference of Pluto, you will be warming the world with your masterly knitting skills."

Albus looked at the throw he knitted recently that was hanging over the couch. He knew that his father was right. He didn't need clogged arteries. In fact he'll get his friends to quit their unhealthy habits.

**AN: this chapter has many inspirations. Nancy Grace, Team Star Kid, the Soup, Oprah, Dr. Phil, Graham Norton, and Michael Buble, just to name a few...or all of them. ****If you have any ideas for advice for Harry to give, leave me a review! I take general feedback as well!**


	4. James

Ch. 4

**AN: I keep reserving this chapter for Lily, but then I think of something else and that then becomes the new chapter. Lily will most likely make an appearance in ch.5, but for now, here's James.**

James lathered up his washcloth and proceeded in washing his body. He heard someone pound on the bathroom door, but he didn't hear who it was or what they were saying because his beautiful singing voice drowned out their words. Singing in the shower was James' second favorite thing to do in the bathroom (his favorite thing was clip coupons, for his mum. It made him feel like the super saver).

The banging continued and James continued to ignore it. He wasn't done with his song and whoever was on the other side could wait longer, learn to have some patience.

"Hannah takes the stairs and I usually take the elevator, every now and then she offers me a lemon now and later," James sang. He cleaned behind his ears and in between his toes. He needed to have a thoroughly clean body if he wanted to be as beautiful as possible.

"James Sirius Potter, out of that bathroom, NOW!" Ginny shouted from the other side of the door.

"Not clean yet, mum!" James called back. He continued his scrubbing and singing. He wasn't aware that Ginny was trying to show Lily how to make a dish for her book club and was now suffering some serious side effects from a failed attempt. Because she was a mother and mothers sacrifice for her children, Ginny let Lily have the bathroom downstairs and she was trying her best to make it to the bathroom.

"No, now!" Ginny unlocked the door and threw herself into the bathroom. She grabbed James from the shower and threw him out of the bathroom, tossing a towel out behind him and slammed the door.

James quickly wrapped the towel around his waist and looked around to see who could have possibly saw him. To his dismay, he saw his father poking his head out from his office. James figured he heard the commotion and was investigating at a distance.

"Hi dad," James said, filling the awkward silence.

"You do realize you were in there for 45 minutes, right?" Harry said.

"I like to be thoroughly clean."

"You take longer showers than your mother and Lily combined," Harry pointed out. "And they're women!"

James opened his mouth to say something, but closed it, finding it futile. He nodded and looked back at the bathroom. How long does it take to use the bathroom?

"I don't think she's going to be out anytime soon," Harry said, answering his son's mental question.

"Aren't you supposed to be working or something?" James asked.

"This is worth procrastination."

"Watching me stand out here with a towel on?"

"No, watching you being thrown out of the bathroom naked and _then_ watching you stand there. It's like you don't have a clue what to do next." Harry laughed.

James looked down at himself and then back at his father, who was still laughing. "Well, I can work on my singing."

"What's there to work on?"

"I am going to pursue a career in signing and I need to practice everyday," James straightened up and held his head high.

"Oh really?" If he was being serious, Harry couldn't tell. It's hard to take your son seriously when he was _still_ standing in the middle of the hall with a towel smaller than he thought it was, wrapped around his waist. In Harry's mind, James was asking to be de-toweled.

"Yeah. I am going to make music that you can sing to while in the shower. I'll call my first album James Potter: in the shower. My sweet seductive voice will make anybody's voice. In fact, they'll have to put a warning label on the case that fainting may occur because my voice can knock any girl unconscious and bring anyone out of a coma," James struck a pose.

Harry, seeing the opportunity knocking on his office door, wandlessly de-toweled the teen. Just before James to scramble the towel back around his waist, Harry banished it.

"DAD!" James screamed so high, his voice cracked. He had crossed his legs and was doubled over. He looked miserably around, wondering how he was going to get to his room on the other side of the house.

Ginny chose that moment to stick her head out of the door. "James, put some clothes on, there's a window!" Ginny then felt another bout of indigestion coming on and disappeared back behind the door.

As if the situation couldn't get any worse for James, it did. The bathroom that he frequented was in the hall that crossed the front door. At this moment, James saw a figure approach the door and he froze. The mystery person knocked and James watched in horror as his ten year old sister skipped to the door to open it.

"Lily! Lily, no! Don't open the door!" James called to his sister. Lily, being too oblivious and out of it due to her own food poisoning, to look up and only looked over her shoulders. Satisfied that no one said anything, she pulled the door open.

At the last second, James found a conveniently placed plant and dived behind it. He looked over toward his father's study and saw Harry, leaning in his chair, a look of absolute amusement on his face.

"You are just loving this, aren't you?" James hissed.

"There is a lesson in this you know," Harry noted.

James shot his father a glare and listened to who was at the door.

"Hey Lily, is James home?" It was the voice of none other than Charlotte, the neighbor girl James was in love with. And she was asking for him.

"I haven't seen him, so I think he's with his friends," Lily answered.

James' heart stopped beating. How could she say that? The fiend! She was trying to soil this perfect opportunity for James and Charlotte to come together in a cornucopia of love.

"Actually, I'm right here!" James jumped up from behind the plant and in the middle of the hall. "Hey, Charlotte, how's it going?" James heard his father choke bak a laugh and it didn't occur to him as to why until he saw Charlotte's face.

She was horrified, to say the least. Her face had gone pale and her mouth was hanging open. James' gorgeous smile began to fade when he felt the wind from outside blow through the still open door...between his legs.

James took a deep, spastic breath. He dared not look down. He had to try something, but his mind was too numb to think of anything.

"Why don't you try using your sweet and seductive voice!" Harry called loudly from his chair so that Charlotte could hear.

James turned a bright red and Charlotte turned ten shades darker.

"Bye," was all she mustered before darting out the door.

James watched her run as fast as her legs could carry. He didn't want to watch her leave, but Lily was too busy laughing at James' nakedness that she didn't notice the door needed shutting. Like it mattered. James found his feet and ability to move after Charlotte disappeared from view. He hung his head in defeat and trudged back to his room. He pulled clothes onto his body. He wasn't even sure if they were clean or not, but he didn't care.

Once clothed, James felt a pity party was appropriate and crashed on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. He wasn't sure how long he was staring when someone knocked on his door.

"Oh good, you're clothed," Harry said, entering without permission.

"Why?" James finally said after five minutes. "You just had to make it worse."

"I didn't do anything. That was all you."

"Me? How was that me?" James felt himself fill with anger.

"You were standing in the middle of that hall for 20 minutes without clothes. You had plenty of time to avoid such a fate. You could have even stayed behind the plant I provided for you. You did neither." Harry explained.

James pouted. His father was right. He had every chance in the world and he blew it. "So what exactly am I supposed to pull from this?"

"Nothing will ever go your way if you just stand around and do nothing," Harry said. He felt it was the best advice he could give anyone. "You know, the teen mind is a short one. Give it a week or so and write her a letter or invite her to tea or something."

"Dad, I can't do that!" James cried.

"Why not? It's not like your going to be naked while doing it," Harry felt that it was this moment was the one to walk out of the room.

James pondered his father's words for a brief second before tossing it aside. What a load of hogwash. Something that wasn't hogwash was revenge and James had the perfect idea to get back at his father. He just may wake up tomorrow morning and find his knickers in the freezer!

James felt an evil laugh was appropriate, so he laughed.

**AN: this chapter's inspirations: Chuck Criss for the Holidays. Leave a review!**


	5. Lily

Ch. 5

**AN: finally the chapter that was supposed to be two chapters ago!**

Lily ripped the mittens that were covering her hands off. Her mum put them there to prevent her from scratching herself silly. She crawled out of bed and scratched a few of chicken pox that were on her head. She looked at herself in the mirror and wrinkled her nose.

Lily had been sick with the chicken pox for a week. She woke up in the middle of night each and every night to make sure her window was locked and that there was nothing under the bed, or in the closet. It was the average routine for an average seen year old girl. Lily then pulled on her slippers and padded out of her room.

As the sick little girl ventured down the hall, she touched doorknobs and light switches. She liked to shock herself using the new fluffy carpet they just got. Eventually, she reached her destination: her parents' bedroom. She opened the door and crept inside, clambering on the bed and in between the two.

"Hey, honey pie," Ginny said, pulling the covers over her daughter. "What's wrong?"

"I can't sleep," Lily squirmed in the giant bed, scratching a spot on her foot.

"Don't scratch. You want mummy to make you a cup of tea?"

"With honey?" Lily asked. She really wanted to snuggle between her two parents and spread her disease to them, but tea will do.

Ginny kissed the top of Lily's head and dragged herself out of bed. After slipping on her slippers, she walked out of the room and down the stairs to the kitchen. Lily watched her go before burrowing down deeper in the covers.

"Daddy?" the fiver year old shook the man beside her. "Are you awake?"

"Hmpf?" Harry grunted.

"Are you alseep?"

"Why?" Harry flicked his nearby lamp on and rolled over to see his daughters pox specked face poking out from the covers.

"Because," Lily said quietly.

"Because why?" Harry felt it was too early for this kind of game.

"Because there are chickens in my room."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because James said there were," Lilly rubbed her face on the woollen blanket. Harry wrinkled his nose. Now he had to disinfect the sheets _and _the blanket.

"Don't scratch Lily."

"But it itches!" the girl whined.

"I know, but you can't scratch," Harry explained. "It will take longer for you to get better if you do."

"I don't want to be a chicken!" Lily wailed, almost instantly bursting into tears.

"Why do you think you're going to turn into a chicken?"

"Because they're attacking me! They're in my room and they're attacking me."

"What makes you think chickens are in your room attacking you?" Harry frowned. When he had the chicken pox, his Aunt locked him in the cupboard under the stairs (where he stayed because at the time, he thought it was a clubhouse). Of course she actually took care of him then because the last thing the Dursleys wanted was a visit from CPS. However, he never though he was being attacked by a chicken. There is something rotten in Denmark.

"James told me that you get chicken pox because chickens peck at your skin to get back at you for eating their family. Then they turn you into a chicken and then someone will eat you!" Lily disappeared completely under the covers.

"Lily, come out from under there," Harry smiled a little to himself. He knew he wasn't going to get her to emerge by just telling her to. What five year old listens? So, to further convince her, he tickled her until she was rolling around laughing.

"Lily, chicken pox is not chicken pecking your skin to get back at you for eating chicken," Harry said. "As for James, he would have to go into your room to tell you that and it won't be long before he himself has the pox."

"Really?" Lily asked. Harry nodded.

At that moment, Ginny came back with a small cup of tea for Lily. She took it and drained the cup.

"What took so long?" Harry asked.

"James is sick."

"Oh, that is too bad."

Lily giggled and crawled out of the bed and said goodnight to her parents. She was about to leave when a high pitched scream broke the silence of the night. Harry shot up and grabed his wand. Ginny grabbed Lily and put her back on the bed.

James burst into the room with Albus not far behind him.

"What? What's wrong?" Harry demanded.

"It's a chicken, dad! A giant chicken!" James cried. He paused to scratch the back of his neck. "I was sleeping and then a giant chicken came out of nowhere!"

"Was this a dream?" Ginny asked. James shook his head.

"It's still there!"

Harry frowned and walked down the hall to James' room. He crept inside carefully, not expecting to see anything, but not wanting to be taken by surprise either. As he looked around his eldest's room, he didn't see anything that could possibly resemble a chicken.

"BA-GOCK!" Harry whirled around to see a ten foot chicken analyzing him. Harry hoped it wasn't looking for a treat, but he couldn't be so sure.

With his auror instincts kicking in, Harry lifted his wand and turned the chicken into a fish. He then took the fish and put it downstairs with the other fish in the tank. Before returning upstairs, the man poured himself a generous glass of firewhisky.

"What was it?" Ginny asked. She had all the kids on their bed. Albus had gone back to sleep, Lily was scratching herself with her mittens on again and James was curled into the fetal position.

"A giant chicken. It's a fish now," Harry said. He didn't bother explaining further to his wife. He walked over to Lily and scooped her up.

"Lily, honey, we are never going to eat chicken ever again, right?"

"Yes daddy."

**AN: contest! Can you guess all of this chapter's references? (Hint: there's 4) let me know via review! I'll reveal the answers in next the next chapter's authors note. Review!**


	6. Rose

Ch. 6

**AN: welcome to this chapter! As promised, here are chapter 5's references: Hamlet, Black Swan, Dexter's Lab, the Beatles, and Home Invasion. Chapter 6's will be revealed in chapter 7.**

Rose and Hugo Weasley scrounged around the attic of their house. Their parents had left them with Teddy as a sitter and they were taking full advantage of their absence to look for Christmas presents. It was a yearly ritual for them, to look around for a chance at a sneak peak at what their parents had gotten them for the holidays. The two siblings, when they did find something, held a contest on Christmas day to see who could act the most surprised.

Rose looked over her shoulder at her brother, who haphazardly tossed clothes, that were once in a trunk, all over the place. She knew there wasn't anything in the trunk, but she let her little brother search still. She was only focused on one thing and one thing only: finding a broomstick.

For Christmas, Rose had asked her parents for a broomstick that way she can try out for the quidditch team come her second year of school. It may be a year away, but Rose was going to practice every time she had a few spare moments. She wanted to be a keeper, like her father.

"Rose, there's nothing here," Hugo said. He had emptied the trunk and figured that there was nothing in the attic. Rose knew otherwise. She had her mother's brain, which meant she knew how to look for things.

"Come look over here," Rose suggested. The boy trudged over unwillingly. If something didn't pop up in front of Hugo's face, he gives up.

Rose dug through her parents' old school stuff. As she felt around through boxes in the dim light, her hand brushed something. She quickly groped the object that could only be the wooden handle of a broom.

"I've got something!" Rose cried. She gave the gift a good yank and the broom was brought into the light.

"Wowie!" Hug exclaimed. He couldn't tear his eyes away. "I can't believe that mum and dad got me a broom!"

"What makes you think it's for you?" Rose snapped.

"The tag," Hugo pointed to the wrapped parcel's tag. Sure enough, the tag read;

TO: Hugo

LOVE: Mum and Dad

Rose threw down the broom and ran out of the attic. She stumbled down the ladder as she went, falling off the last step entirely. She picked herself up, wiping the tears away as Teddy called up to see if she was alright. Rose called down and ran into her room.

"Rose, are you okay?" Teddy asked, knocking on Rose's door.

"Go away!" Rose called. She continued to cry into her pillow.

Teddy saw Hugo creeping down from the attic with a massive grin on his face.

"What's up?" he asked the kid.

"Mum and dad got me a broom for Christmas!"

"Is that what's wrong with Rose?"

"I guess. She wouldn't shut up about getting a broom all break. She said she's going to make the quidditch team."

Teddy nodded and decided that this situation was out of his league. Of course, babysitting meant that if there was a problem, you call the parents. However, for this particular situation, he felt that calling Ron and Hermione would be a disaster. So, instead, Teddy called in someone else.

Harry Potter walked out of the fireplace briskly. He wanted to make an impression when he entered the Weasley household. He held his hands on his hips and surveyed his surroundings with a magnified glass with a slightly pompous air about him.

As the Chosen One took another step into the house, he stepped on a tennis ball Ron's dog left laying around and tasted how clean the floor was.

He stayed face down on the floor. He contemplated whether or not he should leave and enter again. This would take being unnoticed and Hugo's laughter told him that was out of the question. His second option would be to stand up, look around with dignity, and pretend nothing happened.

Harry quickly picked himself up and dusted himself off. Harry Potter never admits he tripped on something. That something trips Harry Potter.

"Teddy!" Harry called.

"Right here, Harry," Teddy said from behind. Harry whipped around and continued to pretend he never tripped.

"What's wrong?"

"Rose and Hugo were snooping through the attic and Rose found a wrapped broomstick, but saw it was for Hugo. She refuses to come out now," Teddy explained.

"Ah, I see," Harry frowned. " Damn tween hormones. I'm glad Lily will never be a tween. She'll stay nine years old forever, just like Lisa. Well, worry no more, I will handle this." Harry grabbed a nearby blanket and tied it around his neck. He dashed up the stairs. He made flying noises as he made his way to Rose's room, knocking on her door.

"Go away!" Rose called again.

"But it's Captain...captain...Lollipops! It's Captain Lollipops and I hear you are... frowning?"

Rose's head shot up from her pillow. She looked toward the door. It sounded like her uncle and her childhood nightmare of Rainbow Brite come to life at the same time. There was only one way to find out who it was.

"What's the password?"

Harry searched his brain for a good password, "I can't think of it."

"The sheep caws at noon," Rose replied.

"Under the rock, jaguars drink lions," Harry answered.

Rose opened the door to see her uncle standing with a blanket tied around his neck. She fixed a scowl on her face, "I'm not five, Uncle Harry."

Harry's smile disappeared, "fine, I'll just leave then." Harry took the blanket off and walked toward the stairs.

"No, wait!" Rose called back. Harry looked back at her out of the corner of his eye. "I'm sorry."

"I forgive you. Just try to keep your wild and unruly hormones in check," Harry said calmly as he strolled back into the girl's room.

"My what?" Rose closed her door.

"So, what seems to be the problem?" Harry pulled out her desk chair and sat in it. Rose perched herself on her bed.

"Hugo got the broom I wanted for Christmas," Rose pouted again.

"And that's a problem because why?"

"How am I supposed to make the quidditch team, if I don't have a broom?"

"You can borrow one."

"I can't practice over the summer on a broom borrowed from the school!"

"I'm pretty certain your father still has his. You can borrow that one," Harry said simply. Why do girls always make a big deal out of everything? Ginny makes a big deal about him not leaving the toilet seat down, Hermione makes a big deal about him taking an extra long lunch every Friday, and Fleur makes a big deal about him letting Teddy and Victoire going to a Whomping Willows concert that turns into a sex riot. It's not like he didn't have a sex conversation with his godchild. He even made the boy read a graphic romance novel so that whenever he thought about going the extra mile, the knowledge of his readings will gross him out.

"That's not the point!" Rose yelled. Her cheeks were red with anger. "It's the principle of the matter that Hugo gets a broom and I don't when I asked for one!"

"What makes you think you didn't get one? The fact that it didn't pop out in front of your face?" Harry raised his eyebrow at her.

Rose was stumped. Her uncle was right. They could have hidden her broom in a more obscure place other than the attic. That way, she wouldn't find it and actually be surprised on Christmas. But that's cruel. It's her broomstick and she needs it now!

"So, they did get me a broom?"

"No, they don't want you to play quidditch just yet. So, they got you a panda cow."

Rose gasped. She always wanted a panda cow, ever since she saw them on the muggle news her mum watches. Her walls were even decorated with panda cow drawings she made. "I love panda cows! How big is it?"

Harry stood up and put his hand at his waist, trying to visualize the height of the creature, "pet sized."

Rose squealed and danced around her room. This was going to be the best Christmas ever!

Seeing his work was done and that he needed to somehow convince Ron to buy a panda cow, Harry decided to take his leave. As he slowly backed out of the room so that Rose wouldn't catch his lie, Rose stopped him.

"Hey uncle? Where do you hide your Christmas presents? I mean, aren't you afraid that James, Lily and Albus will find them?"

"Nope. You see, I live by an abandoned corn farm. And under said corn farm is where Ginny and I hide the presents. Because I showed my children the movie, "Children of the Corn," they are now too afraid to go anywhere near the plants to dig up their presents. That's why they're always a little dusty come Christmas morning.

"But you can't grow corn here," Rose stated.

"Why do you think it's abandoned?"

**AN: guess the references! I** **think there are 7. Make sure you leave a review as well!**


	7. Ginny

Ch. 7

**AN: I tried to work on a new story that was the worst ever because it was written poorly, but I couldn't go through with publishing it. So instead**, **I'm posting this! Last chapter's references were 9News, Glee, the Soup, Children of the Corn, the Secret Window and the other two no one would get so I won't even mention. On with the show!**

Harry rocked back and forth. It was his wedding day and he was finally going to marry the love of his life, Ginny. He looked at his watch, duly noting that his bride was ten minutes late, but he wasn't worried. Ginny would never stand him up like this. He knew she was on her way over and was screaming at everyone because she's so late. Harry watched Bridezillas, so he knows all about what happens with brides and wedding days.

As another twenty minutes passed, Harry was beginning to worry. Maybe she was in danger? No, he couldn't think that. Ginny was on her way.

*one hour later*

Harry still stood out at the front of the aisle. Some of the guest had left, telling him that a wedding wasn't happening and he should give up. Ron had went to see what was taking so long, but came back shrugging his shoulders. There wasn't anyone at the Burrow and he couldn't get a hold of Hermione.

"Should I just call it quits?" Harry asked. As much as he hated telling everyone that still sat in their seats patiently, all the Weasleys that he and Ginny weren't going to marry anymore, he hated the Daily Prophet there, snapping photos of him as he stood there like an idiot more.

"Well, Harry," Ron reasoned, "if you want something, go after it."

Harry, strangely, felt empowered by his friend's words and powered down the aisle. He would find Ginny himself and then get married.

He went about all the places he figured Ginny would go if she were to run somewhere. The downside: she wasn't in any of them. "She must have gotten a new hiding place!" Harry said to himself, exasperated.

The man returned to the Burrow, defeated, but at the same time not willing to give up. He decided to cruise around upstairs. He remembered that he left something in Ron's room and went to fetch it. On his way back downstairs, he stopped by Ginny's room. It was a long shot, but it was the last place that had once bore the mark of Ginny Weasley.

Harry didn't bother with knocking because she wasn't in there. He was wrong. Sprawled across the bed, staring at the ceiling was Ginny. She was in her wedding dress and looked like she was all ready to get married. She just seemed to be having some problem getting there.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but his tongue was stuck. He blamed it on Ginny. She just had to gorgeous. Why can't she be like the briddezillas he sees on the telly? Snotty, ugly, and mean. But no, she had to look beautiful, graceful and perfect. What a life.

He managed to clear his throat, grabbing Ginny's attention. She simply moved her head to the side. Harry almost couldn't see her face, it was lost in her veil.

"So, wedding?" Harry finally managed to say.

"Yeah, it was supposed to start hours ago," Ginny said nonchalantly.

"Glad you didn't lose track of time," Harry didn't even try to hide the bite.

Ginny sat up and stared at the man she's supposed to marry in the face. "It's not that I don't want to get married. I just don't feel like getting married today."

"You don't feel like getting married today? What's the difference between today, tomorrow, or yesterday?"

Ginny took a deep breath. Harry had a point. Even though she knew that her excuse was lame, it was worth a shot. In fact, Ginny wasn't sure why she wasn't walking down the aisle, or at this point in time, married. It wasn't that she didn't love him, she was just sick and tired of being the center of attention. Everyday she would walk out of Harry's flat (which she was working on moving into from her flat), she would be blinded by all the flashing cameras and make the front page of the morning's copy of the _Daily Prophet_.

"You know, Harry, I just don't want to get married in front of the entire world."

"It's not like I invited them! They just show up and then refuse to leave until they have their story. Yeah, it's annoying, but eventually it will all end," Harry collapsed on the bed beside Ginny.

"You just think it will go away? It's been five years since the war ended and you're still the star of the Wizarding World!" Ginny sighed and went back to staring at the ceiling. She imagined life without the media.

Harry looked at her staring at the ceiling and, to his surprise, joined her. He imagined a house, with a white picket fence in suburbia. He was standing in front of his house wearing a sweater vest, freshly pressed shirt and tie. Beside him was Ginny. Her hair was pulled back in a bun, a string of pearls decorated her neck, and sky blue dress fit all the curves on her body. She held a steaming hot pie in her hand. In front of him and his perfect wife, were his 2.5 kids. They were dressed just like their parents and they all stood together, smiling, happy.

When Harry's bubble popped and he found just the ceiling before his eyes, he, like Ginny, didn't feel like getting married anymore. He had all he wanted: a bed, a woman, and his imagination set free to frolic wherever the hell it felt like frolicking. But at the same time, Harry knew it wasn't real. If he wanted his picket fence and 2.5 kids, living like the suburbanites, he had to go and get it.

"Ginny, come on, we're getting married!" Harry declared, standing up.

"Does this mean I have to face the media, _AGAIN!_" Ginny was in her happy place and she didn't feel like leaving it.

"Yes," Harry straightened himself up and prepared to make a speech. "You are getting up from this pathetic state of living and marching downstairs and out to that altar. So what if you have to face the media? Suck it up, you Mary Sue! Am I making myself clear? YOU put this wedding on THIS DAY and damnit, if I'm not married by the stroke of midnight, here go hell come! You agreed to marry Harry Freakin Potter and you are going to marry Harry Freakin Potter whether you like it or not! I will drag you if I have to!"

Harry didn't mean to shout at her. He just built up all this momentum and couldn't let it just go to waste. Only now he had to face a frightened Ginny and heavy breathing. He hated heavy breathing. It felt weird to him.

Ginny, however, wasn't frightened. Maybe startled by the sudden assertive tone the man had, but not frightened. It was like Harry just told her that he was going to be wearing the pants. She liked that in a man.

"You think everyone will still be there in 20 minutes?"

Harry saw a mischievous glint in Ginny's eyes and immediately jumped on her boat, "I don't think the question is whether or not they'll be there in 20 minutes, but if they'll be there in 40."

"50."

"Deal," Harry jumped back on the bed and pulled Ginny to him, crushing his lips into hers. Who said sex comes before marriage?

*two hours later*

Harry and Ginny collapsed on the couch in Harry's flat. Ginny had since abandoned the wedding dress. By the time Harry 'found' Ginny and 'convinced' her to come to the ceremony so they could tie the knot once and for all, the rest of the guests decided there was going to be no wedding. To the Weasley's surprise, the couple were completely fine with it.

"What should we do now?" Ginny looked over at what should be her husband.

Harry scrunched up his face, a sign that he was deep in thought. "We had planned a honeymoon in Italy, right?"

"Yeah, so what? We go on vacation and pick another day to get married and have a honeymoon?" Ginny reasoned.

"No. We go on our honeymoon and get married in Italy," Harry thought it was the perfect solution to this new problem.

"It's quiet, no media," Ginny mused.

"And we would essentially be killing two birds with one stone."

"I like it,"

"Do you?"

"Yes," Ginny saw no downside to the plan.

"Then it's established!" Harry threw his hands in the air, "tomorrow, we leave for Italy, get married, and live off the fruit of love!"

"Yay!" Ginny laid back into Harry's lap. She closed her eyes and fell asleep. As Harry watched her sleep, he felt himself nod off too. He knew the backlash from a runaway marriage would hit as soon as they came back, but who knows? Maybe someone will survive a killing curse in that time and become the new center of attention.

**AN: this one was a little weird. Not as weird as James, but it's up there. Anyways, this chapter has 4 references that my conscious brain is aware of. If there are any more, they are an enigma to me. Guess the references! And leave a review!**


	8. Hermione

Ch. 8

**AN: sorry this I took so long to update, been busy. I can't remember what last chapter's references were, but I doubt any of you care. Anyways, on with the show!**

Hermione took a deep breath and knocked on the door to her best friend's office. It was her lunch hour and she had something burning in her brain. She had to tell him. He would know just what to do. He always did.

"Hey Hermione!" Harry greeted cheerily. He needed a break from the paper work and the grumbling in his stomach. He was taking a late lunch so that Ron could have lunch with Kingsley. They were planning some assault against dark wizards.

"Hi Harry," Hermione said quietly. She contemplated leaving.

"What's up? You seem upset," Harry observed.

"I have something to tell you."

"What is it?"

Hermione paused. She fumbled with the tassels on her scarf, "I'm pregnant."

Harry's jaw dropped and his quill slipped from his hand. "Damnit! I knew something happened at the Christmas party! People don't wake up wearing nothing but the latest copy of the _Prophet_ wrapped around their body in what seems to be a fashionable dress!"

"What?" Hermione looked at Harry incredulously.

"We did it at the Christmas party!" Harry wailed. "Ron's never gonna forgive me!"

"Harry!" Hermione slapped her friend across the face, "that was Ginny."

"Oh that's right. Now I remember. That's what happened with James," Harry suddenly felt like walking over to the office for the _Daily Prophet_ and throwing a Christmas party.

"Wait, if we didn't do it at the Christmas party, then why are you coming to me with your baby problems?"

"Because Ron and I never talked about having children and I'm wondering if he might have said anything to you."

Harry rolled his eyes. It wasn't that he was annoyed with Hermione. Rollin ghis eyes showed people that he was going through his memory archive. He structured his memory like an Internet search engine. Someone says a key word(s) and his mind categorizes the memories according to their search. It was a complicated process, but like Google, he could do it in no time at all.

"Well, in .0000000000098 seconds, my brain has come up with zero results for the search 'Hermione and Ron children.' Try rephrasing your search and try again," Harry replied in his robot voice. He added a few robot arm movements in just to show he was a Potter bot.

"Nothing? At all?" Hermione bit her lip, "what if he leaves me because he doesn't want children?"

"Then your children will have two Christmases."

"Harry!"

"Okay, sorry, I highly doubt he would do that," Harry pulled a Jell-O cup randomly out of his desk. It was cherry flavor, the best flavor for everything. He didn't eat it in front of Hermione because he needed it to seduce his wife at the Christmas party he was planning on throwing for her.

"Ron's not a coward, Mione. I'm sure he will be enthralled over you baking cookies. He is a simple person to please. Although, I'll warn you, he hates white chocolate macadamia nut, so, go with a simple chocolate chip."

"I'm not making cookies! I'm pregnant!" Hermione yelled. "You know, with child, expecting, knocked up!"

"I didn't care much for that movie," Harry's eyes were fixated on his Jell-O. Should he take a big scoop? A little scoop? Maybe he should lick the lid. Oh, wait, that only works on pudding. Why didn't he have a pudding cup!

"What am I going to do?"

"About?"

"My baby!"

"You know, Hermione, your mood swings are worse than Ginny's," Harry tapped the gelatin dessert with his wand. Cherry flavored pudding may not sound appetizing, but it sure did look good when you lick the lid, especially if it's at a Christmas party.

"Maybe, if my friend wasn't being such a dud, I would have a more positive attitude," Hermione grumbled.

"Well, at this point in the game, you have two options."

"Which would be?"

"Tell Ron about Ron Jr. before he goes on his next mission a couple weeks from now, or wait until he gets back."

"What will waiting do?"

"When Ron gets back, he will be so tired, he will have no energy to freak out and be chill as a cucumber with the whole matter."

"When does Ron get back?" Hermione found herself liking Harry's plan.

"About four months."

"I will be half the size of Pluto by then!"

"Like I said, too tired, chill as a cucumber."

"I'll just make a really really romantic dinner...Harry, what, by the power of Gray Skull, are you doing?"

Harry froze mid lick. He was practicing his seductive pudding eating with a package of Fun Dip. "Nothing. I'm going to go throw someone a party. Good luck with the whole rose petal bubble bath approach to telling Ron there are three Weasleys now. Wait, that's not right. Tell him there are–," Harry started counting all the Weasleys on his fingers. "Tell him there will soon be too many Weasleys to count plus one." Harry gave Hermione a hug and left carrying his once Jell-O, now pudding cup.

"Genius!" Hermione cried. She quickly left the ministry to buy flower petals and bath salts. She made sure they were lavender scented, Ron's favorite.

While Hermione was fixing her hair in the bathroom, she noticed she left the muggle pregnancy test on the counter. She merely brushed the pee stick over the counter, aiming for the trash. She missed. As she bent to pick it up, she noticed a stray eraser shaving fell from the stick. She forgot she filled out crosswords while waiting for the test results. Hermione took a closer look at the test and saw a little minus sign.

"Huh, the eraser shaving must have made a plus sign, making me think I was pregnant," Hermione said to herself. She thought she would be happy, but the only thing she felt was disappointment. Harry and Ginny had James. She wanted a bundle of joy to hold and call her own.

Hermione! I'm home!" Ron called from down the hall of their flat.

A smile crossed Hermione's lips. She looked over at the still warm bath water, covered in flower petals. "In the bathroom, Ron. Why don't you come join me?" Hermione wiggled out of her clothes and slipped into the tub.

**AN: ok this was different. Again, sorry for the delayed update. I almost forgot this existed. Don't forget to review! More reviews = faster update!**


	9. Hugo

Ch.9

**AN: well, after reading the reply of a review I left for a story, I feel like writing a new chapter. Unfortunately, it will be the second to the last in this story. Much sadness, I know. Thank you to my two reviewers, and 900+ hits! **

Hugo circled around his latest masterpiece. There was something wrong with it, something missing. The scene was seemingly perfect, but he had to figure out the last touch that would make it completely perfect.

Hugo worked as a landscaper. He was good at his work and proud that the majority of the Wizarding World went to him when they wanted a beautiful yard to look at. Although many of the wizards in the Wizarding World didn't have yards, he was still called in to work with what he had to offer. Hugo doubled as an interior designer to make up for the lack of business. He knew just how to make the lime green wall couples thought would look good and then regretted the wall, regret ever not wanting to paint that wall lime green. He was gifted. There was no question asked.

As Hugo stared out at the memorial landscape he made for the 20th anniversary of the Battle at Hogwarts, he didn't notice his uncle surveying him from behind.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

Hugo whipped around and saw Harry. His head was cocked to the side, trying to make out what Hugo had made.

"It's a duck pond," Hugo answered.

"Where are the ducks?"

"There aren't any ducks."

"Then how is it a duck pond if there are no ducks?" Harry asked.

"Because I said it was!" Hugo wasn't in the mood for his uncle's antics

"No need to get snippy, angry aardvark. It was a simple question."

"Well, I don't have time to talk. I need to figure out what this is missing," Hugo kicked a nearby bucket. His uncle was distracting his concentration. He needed to find whatever was missing from his perfect memorial.

Hugo knew he should have just been an interior designer. Matching carpet with sofas is easy peasy. He focused more on landscaping because his father didn't like it. He wasn't going to admit his father was right when he was so close to stardom.

"How about ducks?" Harry suggested.

"Forget about the ducks! It's a duck pond, but that doesn't mean it has to have ducks."

"Then why call it a duck pond?"

"Because I want to."

"You can't call something a duck pond when it isn't a duck pond," Harry said. In his mind, he knew what he was talking about, but he wasn't quite sure if Hugo knew what he was talking about.

Harry could remember having a similar conversation with his eldest son, James. James was going to be a wizard cop, like his father, but Harry could see that he didn't want to be an Auror. After an intervention held in his basement, James went on to open a smoothie joint. Now, since the basement intervention went so well, Ron asked Harry to hold one for Hugo. Ron would've done it himself, if only Hugo would listen to him.

So, Harry stood before Hugo, a borrowed beater's bat from George hidden behind his back. His plan was to knock Hugo over the head, drag his unconscious body into the basement, tie him to a chair, and politely tell him that the direction he was going in life. They would then enjoy a hot fudge sundae with gooey brownie chunks and a game of exploding snap.

"Just because there aren't ducks in it now, doesn't mean there won't ever be," Hugo defended.

"How long has this pond been here?" Harry was going to wait for his nephew to look down before making his move. He gripped the bat, ready to strike.

"About two months," Hugo's gaze didn't budge. Damn.

"Well, don't you think, being as it's mating season and all, that they aren't coming?"

Hugo looked over at the pond and back at Harry. Suddenly, there was a beater's bat in his uncle's hand. It was almost raised above his head. Harry held his amused look on his face.

"What's with the bat?"

"Uh,"Harry's mind was racing. Hugo was Hermione's kid. He was smart. Too smart to fall for the ol' 'look at the pond while I whack you in the head' ploy. He needed a new plan. Maybe he should try the lesser known 'I'm done talking to you and am going to walk away not, but not before whacking you in the head first' ploy. Yeah, that'll work.

"I was just going to invite you to a game of quidditch," Harry lied.

"No thanks. I need to finish this," Hugo picked up a pot of chrysanthemums.

"I'm telling you, Hugo. You can't make something true by word of mouth," Harry fake concluded. "If it's a duck pond, I want to see some ducks. If not, then don't call it a duck pond."

Hugo took a deep breath. He finally understood what his uncle was telling himself. He wasn't a landscape artist. He was an interior designer. It was high time he traded in his spade and garden hoe, for wallpaper and paint samples.

"I get it now," Hugo said. "I won't try to be something I'm not anymore, ok?"

Harry, in the middle of executing his back up plan froze. "What did you say?"

"I won't be someone I'm not. I'm an interior designer, not a landscaper. Lesson learned okay? Can you give the ducks a rest now?"

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. This, this..._punk_ had taken a literal concern for a lack of ducks in a duck pond and turned into a philosophical lesson. Now, he had no basement intervention!

"Damnit!" Harry cursed. "What am I supposed to with this?" He held up the bat.

"I thought you were going to play quidditch?" Hugo had a harrowing thought. What if Harry was planning to do to him what he did to his cousin, James?

"I was. I just remembered that the family was meeting for hot fudge sundaes," Harry lied again. Since his intervention was technically over, he just had to settle with hot fudge sundaes without the basement.

**AN: another chapter down! How is my writing? Leave a review by clicking the button below!**


	10. Kingsley

Ch. 9...? No wait, 10

**AN: so, it's gotten to the point to where I've forgotten what chapter I'm on. It's a good thing this story os almost done. I'm so close to abandoning this wagon. And the lack of love in the form of reviews haven't served as a reminder that I had a floating story about. Anyways, on with the show!**

Harry Potter walked beside his new wife, his fingers intertwined with hers. They had enjoyed a wonderful honeymoon in Italy and had been home for a few weeks. They did everything together. They lived together, slept together, slept sexually together, brushed their teeth together, showered together, put their shoes on together, they even ate breakfast and dinner together. They wanted to eat lunch together, but they had different lunch hours. It made Harry and Ginny most upset. How were they supposed to spend the rest of their lives together forever and ever if an entire hour of their day was spent alone?

The weekends were the best (unless Harry was on a mission, or Ginny had a match). On the weekends, Harry and Ginny could spend every waking second together, and they did.

On this particular day, Ginny decided she wanted to change the curtains in her and Harry's flat. Naturally, Harry tagged along with her. He thought he could give ideas for patterns.

Harry was thinking of a potato pattern. He loved potatoes. Maybe sailboats. Boaties are fun.

As the couple walked through the Leaky Cauldron, Harry stumbled on something. It turned out to be a foot. Kingsley's foot to be precise.

"Ouch," Kingsley grunted. He was nursing a cup of coffee.

"Sorry Kingsley," Harry apologized. "What's up?"

"Did you not see this morning's _Prophet_? I'm ruined!"

"That was a pretty bad photo," Ginny agreed. That morning's _Daily Prophet_ front cover strayed from the life of Harry Potter to highlight a party Kingsley attended. Unfortunately, Kingsley had a little too much to drink and became the life of the party...by dancing on a table. The paper made sure to highlight every aspect of Kinglsey's drunken dancing show. The picture that adored the front cover was of the Wizarding World's minister of magic taking a provocative dip with people outside of the shot, throwing money as if he were some stripper at a club.

"Hey, Gin, why don't you go on and I'll stay here, talk with Kingsley," Harry suggested.

Ginny froze, "really? I mean you don't want to pick out curtains?"

"Naw, I mean, I don't know one thing about curtains."

A look of relief crossed Ginny's face and she left before Harry could change his mind, "I won't be too long!" She called over her shoulder.

Harry frowned, but shrugged his shoulders and joined Kingsley at the table.

"Well, it looked like a fun party," Harry started.

"I wish I could remember it," Kingsley replied curtly. "I am going to be thrown out of office for being reckless. I have to meet with the press to talk about it in a little bit, but I don't know what to say!"

"Lie."

"What?"

"Lie. Sometimes, the truth is overrated," Harry explained. "You could tell the press that you made a mistake and had too much to drink and the night is a blur, or you can tell them something else."

"Like what? They already have a statement from me saying I don't ever remember climbing on a table and making a fool of myself!"

"Then say that wasn't you," Harry replied, standing his ground against Kingsley's frustration.

"Who else could it have been?"

"Ernie Kernersky...Shakelbolt."

"Who?"

"You know, your ne'er do well twin brother. He really likes to party and have a good time. It's hard to admit the two of you are related, but blood is thicker than water. You do love your brother, just not the things he does," Harry said in an official tone.

Kingsley opened his mouth to say something but closed it. He took a sip from his cold cup of coffee. He sat in silence and let Harry's words wash over him. It was a long shot. A twin brother? They would never buy, or would they? If he told the truth he would be sacked in a heartbeat, or maybe he would stay in office, but no one would trust him again. That was worse. Even worse still was lying to the press and getting caught. But what if he wasn't caught? What if he managed to get away with having a twin brother? It was his only shot at not losing a job.

"Ernie Kernersky, huh?"

'Yep, Ernie Kernersky. You are confused with him and he with you, nothing more than that," Harry smirked. Kingsley returned the smirk before bursting out laughing. He may have been taught to not lie, but, what the press don't know, won't hurt them.

**AN: this was funnier in my head. Leave a review!**


	11. Draco

Ch. 11

**AN: last chapter! (Finally).**

Draco Malfoy took another tiny glass from his collection and hitched it up to his slingshot. It was a useless muggle contraption, that's why Draco had it. He was proving its uselessness. As he pulled back the elastic band and sent the small shot glass hurtling at the glass, a small smile crossed the blonde's face. He loved the sound of glass shattering upon hitting the wall. It was a simple pleasure; those who passed his office even found it bonkers. Draco had his reasons.

Everyday at 3 o'clock for an hour, he would pull out that useless muggle device from the left hand drawer of his desk, he would pull out his small army of shot glasses, and launched them at the wall. His coworkers thought it was some sort of stress reliever. Astoria had been complaining about the late nights he would work at the ministry. His son, Scorpio, was taking tap dancing lessons. He was in meetings all the time lately. It was logical to think that Draco's irrational behavior at three was because he was stressed out and needed to unwind.

They were far from the truth.

Draco's office sat just on the other side of the Auror office. He wasn't an Auror himself, but his branch in the ministry. The only thing separating Draco from the wizard cops was the wall of which he launches shot glasses at. What's more, Draco knows who's office is on the other side of the wall.

The office belonged to none other than his old school nemesis, Harry Potter. Draco had been launching shot glasses at the wall to hear Potter's reaction to the noise. The first time he heard it, the guy launched a defensive spell across the room. It hit a mirror and ricocheted back at him. He was out for a few days, resting in the spell damage ward at St. Mungos. After Draco continued with the target practice, Harry ignored the noise.

Lately, Draco had been enjoying the sound of Harry's frustration. He could only ignore a mysterious noise coming from his wall for so long. Draco figured with a few extra minutes each day, Harry would reach a break down by the end of the week.

Draco wasn't trying to be mean. He was just having fun. If anyone were to sit in and listen to Harry's frustration, they would see why Draco continued with messing with Harry's mind.

When Harry was frustrated, he didn't just toss things around like normal people. No, he would have a complete meltdown. He shouted at people and things (Draco loved it when he could hear him yelling at the inkwell for being empty).

"ARRRRRGGHHHHHH! THAT'S IT! I'VE HAD ENOUGH!" Harry shouted from the wall. Draco sniggered and fine tuned his ears to see who the victim was. He didn't hear shouting. Instead, he heard the sound of a beast roaring to life and heading straight for the wall.

Draco dived under the desk with his wand pointed straight at the thing protruding from the wall. It made a hole the size of a full grown man. Draco's eyes widened at the sight of Harry holding some sort of cutting device. The device was the source of the beastly noise and it looked like it could cut through a human body with ease.

"WHO IS MAKING THAT NOISE! I'M GOING TO DRUG AND KILL YOU!" Harry cried out wildly, his green eyes flaring out of his head like floo portals to his soul. "After I kill you, I'm gonna cut you in the leg and I'll cut you in the belly and I'll rip your guts out."

Draco curled into the fetal position under his desk. He told himself that if he lived to go home to his nagging wife and tap dancing son, he would never tease anyone ever again. He never thought someone like Potter would lose his cool to the point of murder. Not a clean murder either. The blonde man cringed at the thought of Harry reaching inside his body, pulling out his intestines and stomach, and taking a huge bite out of them. Blood was gushing down his face as he laughed insanely.

"I CAN SMELL YOU!" Harry cried out. He ripped the horrid device in his hands across a few of Draco's office items. He sliced the chair in half and several pictures on the desk. It took everything in Draco not to start blubbering. Although Malfoys don't blubber, Draco figured he wouldn't be a Malfoy for the time being.

Suddenly, the noise from the device stopped. Draco held his breath, knowing it was a trick to get him to emerge from his sanctuary, but he wasn't budging. He was going to wait ten minutes before deciding the madman had gone to kill someone. Maybe Weasley. The ginge population was a little intoxicating.

"Feel free to come out from under the desk anytime, Draco," Harry's calm voice said. He was still in the room.

Being as Draco say no other option, he crept out slowly, wand homed in on Harry. He wasn't going to die. He almost dropped his only defense at the sight of a man with messy black hair and jet green eyes, sitting calmly in a chair, sipping on tea.

"Did you want any tea?"

Draco felt his head nod dumbly. Harry took the steaming pot that had appeared out of nowhere off of Draco's desk and poured tea into a giant mug. He then took a bottle of Firewhisky and topped the mug off with a generous shot. He handed the mug off to Draco. Draco took the tea and drained it.

"Too much?" Harry asked.

"What was?"

"This," Harry indicated to the obliterated room. Draco looked around, wondering what Potter was going on about. He noticed Weasley looking through the hole in the wall. He was in just as much shock as Draco with a gaping mouth and dumbfounded expression.

"Yes. You got your point across."

"Oh, the glass thing? I've known about that for weeks," Harry laughed.

"Then why did you explode everytime I launched glasses at the wall?" Draco found his trusty, useless, slingshot and a lone shot glass that had a sinking Titanic in it. He could sling it at Harry's head if he made a move again.

"That was Ron."

"Oh," Draco took a swig from the Firewhisky bottle. "Why did you do this then?"

"My kids are planning to sneak out of the house in the middle of the night to dig up the Christmas presents they know are buried in the nearby abandoned corn field. I was planning on giving them a little scare so that they never try to outsmart me ever again," Harry explained. "So, was I scary enough, or should I up the anty?"

"You are going to use that, that thing on your _children_?" Draco pointed shakily at the device, now resting at Harry's side. Ron still stared at the hole like a lump, his only defense.

"What? No, that's crazy talk! I'll just stomp around, scream, and knock down a few corn stalks. And this is a chainsaw, just so you know."

"And I thought my son taking tap dancing was a sign of failed parenting," Draco said.

"Scorpius is taking tap dancing?"

"That's none of your business, Potter!"

"It was just a question. That's pretty cool. Is he any good?"

"How would I know?"

"You're kind of his father," Harry reminded Draco.

"Yeah, so."

"I'm sensing some sore feelings," Harry observed. "Do you want to talk it out, or hug it out?"

Draco shot Harry a new look of horror. He never wanted a man hug from Potter. He didn't want to talk about it either, but that was easier than hugging.

"I guess watching my son tap dance makes me miss my days as a professional kid tap dancer," Draco admitted.

"You used to tap dance?"

"Yes, what do I look like? Someone who doesn't know how to tap dance?"

"Yes," Harry quickly moved on from the topic at the sight of the look Draco shot him. "Why don't you show Scorpius all your tap dancing moves? Who knows, maybe you could be this father-son tap dancing phenomena. I'd pay to see that."

Draco thought back to his days on center stage. A hot spotlight gleaming down on him as his feet moved effortlessly to one of the most complicated tap moves. The crowd was falling over themselves to touch Draco's shoes. They were a thought to bring good fortune. A myriad of roses raining down on him as he took his bow. Those were the days. To feel like the clacking of metal against wood on his feet would be a dream come true!

"What a lovely idea," Draco took one last swig of booze and stood up, saying something he knew he would regret saying later.

"Come on, Potter, let's go get some chicken and waffles!"

**AN: the end! I hope you loved it and I hope Draco's chapter made up for Kingsley's lackadazical chapter. Let me know what you think and leave a review!**


	12. Bonus: Harry

Ch. 12

**AN: Bonus Chapter! Just because I haven't been able to get past the error page to post a new story and I had this idea for Harry to receive some advice. Hope you all enjoy this as much as my head did!**

Harry laid in a bath tub, staring up at the ceiling. He blamed his inability to sleep on the weather. It was burning hot outside and the wizarding world had yet to believe in air conditioners. He had to resort to the old trick to getting rid of a fever by taking an ice bath. He had second thoughts about the bath. It seemed like a good idea when he was sweating a new sea in his bed, but ever since he lost the feeling of certain parts, he felt that his future children shouldn't have to suffer just because he had a moment of poor judgement.

As the twenty year old used all his arm strength out of the ice water tub and onto the ground. He used magic to put some feeling back into his legs and walked slowly back to his bed. Surprisingly, his idea worked! He was so freezing cold, the heat was welcoming.

Harry laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He got rid of his heat problem, but he still had a sleeping problem. So, he laid awake waiting for sleep to come to him.

"Whoever told you staring at a ceiling would make you fall asleep was a liar," a voice said nonchalantly.

Harry shot up and looked around. He saw no one, but he was certain he heard someone talking to him. Harry used his dolphin ears to conclude that the person had similar voice patterns and influxes as he did. That made the voice and he related in some way shape or form.

"I am so tired, I am losing my mind," Harry muttered to himself. "I knew I should have went over to Ginny's to complain that I couldn't sleep. Then again, she is a little peeved."

"If your woman ain't happy, she makes sure you ain't happy with her," the mysterious voice said.

Harry gasped. Although he had never been religious, he had a feeling deep in his soul told him he was in the presence of a divine power. He looked up and around his ceiling,"Jesus!"

"Try again," the voice replied flatly.

Harry's mind was racing. It wasn't Jesus, but could it be the big guy himself? Maybe it was Dumbledore again. He hadn't heard from him in awhile, despite sending him a Christmas card.

"Is it God?" Harry asked.

"Hardly."

"Can I phone a friend?"

"Oh bloody hell, you can't figure it out?" The voice snapped.

"No," Harry rubbed his eyes sleepily. "Can we continue this in the morning? I'm really tired."

"Sure thing, I have nothing else to do, other than get rid of a maggot farm," the voice said.

"Thanks," Harry situated himself in his bed and took his first class ticket to slumbertown. He was almost asleep when...

"GET UP!" the voice cried in Harry's ear.

Harry shot up, surprised, dashed into the bathroom and hopped in the tub to shower. "AAAAAARRRGGHHHH!" Harry yelped. He forgot to drain the tub from when he was icing his body.

With a racing heart, Harry noticed it was still dark outside. "Hey, what's the big idea?"

"It's morning," the voice chuckled. This time, the mysterious voice sounded closer, like it was in the room.

"It's not morning!"

"It's 12:01, AM. Last time I checked, AM meant morning."

Harry dried his feet and dragged his body back to bed. "I am going back to sleep and we can talk later. You're just a figment of my imagination anyways."

"Imagination, huh? I'll show you imagination!" the voice cried. The room became windy and lights began to flicker uncontrollably. Harry made a move for his wand, but it was stolen right out of his hand and miscellaneous items in the rom began to fly around wildly.

The display of power showed no sign of end. Harry was able to grab an old WWII helmet he found in Mr. Weasley's shed once and crammed it on his head. He broke a leg off of a chair and hid under the bed.

"Stop it! You're scaring the poor boy!" a female voice cried out. As soon as she did, the whole room returned to its normal state, just a little messy.

"You've always been a fun killer," a new voice chimed in.

"I'm not going to let you bully him!" the female voice replied.

"The kid's tough as nails. He can handle anything," the new voice replied.

"He's right," the old voice chimed in. "Harry isn't scared."

Harry frantically looked around. He must've bought a house that used to be a graveyard and now all the souls are coming back to haunt him. There was only one thing to do now.

Harry dashed out of the room and grabbed a can of lighter fluid from the cabinet he keeps by the fireplace. He thought about making a floo call to Ginny, but decided time was too pressing for such leisurely actions. He took his full can of fluid and began to douse his house in the stuff. He doused the downstairs first so that the spirits wouldn't grow wise to his plan.

When Harry got to his room, the three spirits were joined by a fourth. He kept an acute dolphin ear on the arguing. As long as they were arguing, they would be oblivious to what he was doing.

After dousing his house in lighter fluid, Harry made a makeshift bomb using a dishtowel and a bottle of firewhisky. "Go to hell, bitches!" He lit the bottle on fire and threw it against the wall. Immediately the house was engulfed in flames. Harry, who was standing by the door, had a little trouble getting out. But as he ran as far from the house as he could while still being able to watch the spectacle, Harry wondered where he would stay until he got a flat or another house.

Harry looked at his house engulfed in flames. He had no care in the world about his stuff because they were probably possess and he could afford to buy new stuff. Although he wasn't sure how he was going to explain to Teddy why his toys are gone, Harry was certain he did the right thing.

"I came to give you some fatherly dating advice and what do you do? You set your house on fire!" James exclaimed.

Harry did a double take. Standing beside him was not only his father, but him mum and Sirius. "Mum!" Harry cried joyfully.

"Oh I see, you're happy to see her," James puffed.

"That's what happens when you scare your OWN CHILDREN!" Lily exclaimed. James winced a little in her fury, but stood his ground.

"Look at that house go," Sirius muse, putting on a pair of sunglasses. "Burn baby burn! Does anyone had any marshmallows? I jonesing for a s'more.

"You can't eat, you're dead," James said.

"Oh, right."

James turned his attention back to his son, who was wrapped in his mother's arms. It was a touching scene, but he had business to conduct. It wasn't easy cutting a deal to walk among the living when you have specifically chosen to move on.

"Lily, we're kinda short on time."

Lily stepped back from her son and smiled at him. She kissed the top of his head before fading away, dragging Sirius by the ear with her.

"So, advice huh?" Harry asked awkwardly.

"Yes. I actually have several bits of advice," James started, "one, don't burn down your house. Two, don't take an ice bath. I mean really, if that was an effective use for something or another, it would still be practiced today. Since it's not, you can guess it didn't work quite as well as they thought it did. Three...well, hang on here. I got the house, the bath, and what was I going to say originally?"

Harry figured that if it was about Ginny, he had an idea on what it could be about.

Ginny grumpily threw on her robe as she answered the door. Who could possibly come to the door at 2 o'clock in the morning? She flung the door open to find Harry on the other side.

"You better have a good reason for being here," she said sharply.

"Mind if I crash here for awhile?" Harry asked.

"I thought you had a problem with us living together?" Ginny still stood in the frame of the door, refusing to let Harry in.

"It's not that I had a problem with it, I was just too scared of what your brothers might do to me if they found out we were sleeping together," Harry looked around warily and lipped past his girlfriend into the entry way of her flat. She wasn't that big of a person. She took up only half of the doorway.

"And now you're not afraid?" Ginny raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Not really, I just don't really have anywhere to go."

"What about your _house_?"

"I blew it up."

"You did what?" Ginny checked her ears to see if they were plugged or not. They weren't.

"I thought my house was built on a graveyard and evil spirits were coming back from the dead to haunt me, so I lit my house on fire and blew it up," Harry explained.

"Harry, you watch way too much muggle television," Ginny sighed and walked back to bed. Harry followed closely behind her, eager to finally get some sleep.

**AN: alright, this is the real ending. I hope you all enjoyed it and remember to show your love by a review. Since I'm finally past the error page, check out my new story, just as crazy and hilarious as this one. The same pairing too!**


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